Falling
by shattered petal
Summary: Since his birth, he was destined for doom. And she will follow him. Unquestionably, undoubtedly and certain. Always. -HitsuMatsu


**author's note**: READ. Before you begin reading, be warned there is action at the beginning of this. However, I am very reluctant to rate this as Mature. Sure, you need to be mature to understand what is happening, but I know teenagers can be with this oneshot. I am not graphic with lemons, and this lemon isn't graphic in the slightest. I have focussed on the emotions and briefly/subtly detailed what is actually happening. Of course I shall rate this as Mature if readers believe that rating is more appropriate.  
So, I'm not sure where this oneshot came from. I don't even know if it has a message in it or whatever, but it's basically just angst angst angst and HitsuMatsu bliss. I hope you enjoy.

* * *

**Title**: Falling  
**Genres**: Romance/Angst  
**Rating**: T  
**Couple**: HitsuMatsu

* * *

They happen at her apartment.

His teeth accidentally cut her lower lip, and he tastes blood while he kisses her, and her hands are rough and powerful, pulling at his robes, and he's struggling to keep up, _he's going too fast_, and a cry escapes her lips when he kisses her neck, his mouth _freezing_. She shivers, but doesn't withdraw. Pride has brought them together, and neither are soldiers who forfeit.

Their breaths are heavy, and his body is strong against hers, pinning her to the wall while his lips press against her skin, and his hands pull away at her robes, until she is bare before him. She rests some of her weight on his shoulders, before wrapping an arm around him, craning back her neck where he kisses her. He moans when her hands run through his hair, and she finds his mouth, kisses him passionately, pulling away the fabric from his body, and her back is soon pressed to the wooden floor.

A wave of guilt floods through him, but he refuses to pause and catch his breath. He's panicking. She can feel his trembling hands at her body, can feel his heavy heart pounding against her chest, and she kisses his lips again, in some sort of comfort to soothe him. But he has never been a soothed man, for he was created for distress and terror. Created for death and for Hell to reach forward and take him down with cruel hands. _Dragged away_.

Their eyes meet for a split second, and her head knocks back when he slams his mouth onto hers, and his entire form is shivering, clinging to her, as if she is his anchor, stopping his dementia from grasping him. Taking him whole. He is greedy, but his heart is big, bursting with passion and love that he isn't familiar with. He is pure, innocent with intimacy, but he is too impatient for guidance. Pride strikes him again. _Hinders_ it all.

And when he lowers himself into her, he gasps, scrunches his eyes closed, and holds his breath. Then, hesitantly, he opens his eyes and looks at her, and their noses bump together while he edges a little closer to kiss her lips. She doesn't look away, and she knows the gates have been opened and, foolish as they are, the two have stepped across a forbidding line. But such lines have been blurred for years and years, and, although it breaks his heart, all he can think is _finally_.

… it is far, _far_ too late though.

Their flesh is scarred and ripped, but he cannot look, cannot inspect the wounds from her past. _He is a coward, and always has been_. Suddenly he remembers how to breathe, and has to move. Their limbs tangle, and he pushes, lowering further, lips at her neck again, and he is ashamed that her back is rubbing against splintered wood. Despite his cruel manner, she holds him, and she knows who he is, that he isn't a cruel man, that he isn't _cold_. His entire body is weak because of her, and his hands press hard into the wood, but the warmth of her spirit ceases the freeze.

She moans lightly and he doesn't know if that's confirmation of her consent, or actual _pain_. Her hands _scorch_ his flesh, pressed at his chest, then running around his waist to hold him, reaching for the back of his head, and she allows him to find his pace. He needs a moment to catch up, and he rocks slowly, gently, lips brushing at her forehead and his eyes close slightly, and, beneath him, she doesn't let go, feels _safe_. Protected.

It is clear - so clear - that she is in control. Finally he surrenders and he can _feel_ her warmth glide across his chilling spine, cutting into his flesh, oozing blood and he groans, breathes, and he feels as if he is on fire. _Burning_. But she doesn't hurt him. She will never hurt him, and he knows that. So he holds on too. Their pace quickens, and he raises his head, mouth ajar, as if in shock this is happening, that this is _possible_.

Her hair is a golden sea, and her beauty almost blinds him.

Then they stop. She grabs his arms and squeezes, and wonders if he's hurt, if she's done something, and when he catches her gaze, she sees so much _innocence_ in those green irises. So much naïvety, and tears threaten to escape.

'What are we doing?'

He asks her, of course he asks her. He has _always_ asked her for advice. He has always come to her, he has always opened up about his feelings to her. He has always looked at her first before anyone else. And she has always answered.

Yet experience, age and everything else is irrelevant in this very moment.

All she can do is kiss him, softly.

'I don't know.'

He would have to be a different creature entirely if he were to stop for much longer. But he isn't. He's Human, and makes love to her, but when he tries to kiss her, tries to hold her, he only wants her closer. _He **needs** her_ _closer_. Always seen as independent, he is suddenly dependant, _so_ dependant. He knows now that he can't last without her, that was _final_ from the very beginning.

Nothing is more frightening than knowing she can escape his reach so easily. That her heart is just beneath his touch, and it is her heart which keeps her alive, or… _with him_. They aren't living creatures, but he has never felt so _alive_ in his life. Ever. It is cruel, and just _horrid_ that love would only find him in death.

Since his birth, he was destined for doom.  
And she will follow him.

Unquestionably, undoubtedly and _certain_.

Always.

The fire is burning and roaring, and so new to the sin they are committing together he is unable to remain in control for long. Exhaustion beats at him from years of fighting, and his hair falls over his eyes when their foreheads meet, and she inhales sharply, moans, the heat in the room rising. But his arms remain cold, and he manages to hold her near his end. Two frozen wings, large and possessive, wrapping around her body, the ice dancing as one with the fire. They don't let each other go. His wings are strong enough to hold them close, even if the arrows are constantly being fired.

Only with her, is he truly immortal.

'Tōshirō?'

'Matsumoto.'

'I love you.'

She doesn't have to hesitate, not anymore.

* * *

It is late, and the Gotei holds a haunting atmosphere within its hallways. However, the lamp offers not only light, but a little warmth for the Captain. Within his office, it isn't spooky, and the rain pelting against the window is comforting. Thanks to his sensitive hearing, he can hear if anyone approaches the door.

With her, though, he may as well be blind and deaf.  
His body reacts at once whenever her spiritual pressure comes into contact with him.

'I dismissed you an hour ago.' His voice is sharp; _he's upset_.

'I wanted to wait for you.'

There isn't a debate, he knows she'll win anyway.  
Plus arguments aren't needed. They are so tired and exhausted with everything. The energy to attack is no longer there once they are in each other's presence.

She cares still. So much for him.  
And _that_ is what upsets him. Because he'll _always_ care for her too, desperately. And he knows exactly what he's done, what he's told himself. Now, he is no longer immortal. His heart _does_exist, and only beats for her.

He has become a man possessed.

_Tumbled from the grave_.

Standing to his feet, he clears away his desk and approaches his filing cabinet to deposit a folder. But when his hand touches the cold metal, he gasps and the folder slips from his grip. He tries to catch his breath, to contain himself, to take control again, and he feels life flood back into his veins and body when her arms wrap around him. She presses into his back, and he sighs, closing his eyes and remains motionless.

_I've become so weak_.

'Matsumoto?'

'Captain.'

It is her voice, so gentle and wonderful to his ears. It is the only voice he wants to hear.

_… but I've always been weak. Haven't I?_

'Please.' He jars his teeth. 'Go home.'

She squeezes him affectionately.

'My home is with you, Captain.'

A beat.

'-Tōshirō.'

He can't stand it. Can't handle the thought. For sure, he is a man who drags misery and despair with him. She is a vessel of brightness, of smiles and laughter, and he wonders –_fears_- he shall take her joy from her. He is not a happy man. He is not _wonderful_ like she; he is not warm.

He doesn't deserve her, and that crushes him completely.

One day, he will turn around and never see the happiness in her eyes again. It shall all disappear because of him. His stoicism and coldness and cruelness shall steal every beautiful element from her, and he'll _hate_ himself for eternity.

He will lose her. She won't be Rangiku then. She won't be _his_. Just a creature filled with regret, misery, sorrow and vengeance. She'll transform into the demon that he is.

He _will_ lose her.

It's too much to bare. He can't handle it. He _can't_. Years ago, he should have transferred her. Given her a _chance_ to live, to live in her happiness and wonder. To smile and have someone smile back, to love and have someone love her back, gently, reassuringly, softly, wonderfully and _fairly_.

What a _cruel _man.  
Wanting joy for the woman he loves.

He swallows, and tells himself– No.

_No, no, no, I won't lose her, I won't, I shall not–_

But he will.

'Tōshirō.'

His eyes open, and her hands are at his face, and he realises he's stopped breathing.  
An uncertain smile reaches her lips.

_She's worried_.

'Why do you stay with me?'

Her smile fades for a moment, and the light in the room shies.

'… How can I not stay with you?'

He stares at her, and wants to _scream_. It is her eyes; so blue, they know too much. So joyful, but so, _so sad_.

'What would I do with myself if I wasn't with you?' Her smile returns, but it is broken. 'Tōshirō.' He closes his eyes when she whispers his name. 'My duty lies with you, it has for such a long time. I'd never go back on the promise I made to watch your back. There's nothing for me without you in my life.'

An apology wants to escape when he realises he feels exactly the same.

'I'm happy with you. So happy.' Her hands are lovely and warm at his face and his eyes remain closed. 'I stay with you because you understand me.' He feels her breath at his lips. 'I couldn't ask for anything else.'

It's enough, he thinks. So he opens his eyes, and her gaze is only for him. Just for him. His.

He struggles a smile, and when she returns it, there's so much sadness and heartbreak, so many disappointments and pain, so much tears and loss, so much _agony_. But certainty. A strong certainty of her love for him.

Relief.

'I love you, too.'


End file.
